


Equation

by revletos



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Collection of works where Whale psychologically dissects Danganronpa characters with poetic language, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Freeform, Hinakoma - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Mental Illness, Introspection, Introspection of the Broken, Is there a plot? Who knows, Komahina - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Poetic, Poetic Influence, Post-Canon, Post-Hope's Peak Academy, Some Plot, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29663685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revletos/pseuds/revletos
Summary: “Sometimes, just sometimes, two wrongs may just make a right.”A character study of post-SDR2 Hinata, Komaeda and the solace they find in each other. Style prose, with the influence of free verse poetry.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 20
Kudos: 41
Collections: Introspection of the Broken





	Equation

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the notes at the end to avoid confusion about word choice!

Hinata Hajime was an inequality. He was a random mish mash of varying puzzles that somehow managed to be fit together but not create any discernible picture. By all rights, he should not exist nor should he make sense.

But he did.

Hinata smelled warm with a bit of spice, almost like coffee and the sun. A no-brainer really, considering coffee probably made up at least 93% of his bloodstream, a constant push against sleep to just do one more thing, finish one more task. The sense of responsibility sat heavy on his shoulders, the twin brother of dread. He had chosen to move forward to the future, so he had to atone for it.

_(Later he would get reminded that they, everyone, had decided to move forward together and the burden could be shared. Despite everything he’s been through, he was still human, a fact he sometimes found himself forgetting.)_

Hinata, sometimes late at night, would sit and ponder about life had the apocalypse not happened. It would’ve been a complete 180 from the life he had come to know. He’d find himself often wishing that he could be normal, average, plain.

The irony of the thought left a bitter taste of guilt in his mouth.

Other times, he’d find himself lucky, happy even that it was him that got to be played around with, if he’d forget their years of despair. He was happy now, albeit tired and often exasperated by his colourful array of island co-inhabitants, but he definitely got the longer end of the stick. After all, he was alive and well.

The guilt he’d taste in his mouth when he’d consciously realise that train of thought, was filled with guilt and shame. They were ex-terrorists who ruined the world, tainted it in a rainbow of despair, and destroyed the lives of millions. He, was a monster, and he deserved much worse that what he got.

_(Sometimes, rarely, he’d find himself wishing that he had died with the rest of the reserve course.)_

He’d often lose himself. After all, who was he but the shell of a man filled with ghosts and artificial ambitions? He was the byproduct of mankind trying to play god, a failed experiment. The end result of teenage bad decisions fuelled by envy.

He continued to live as Hinata, and that’s who he was. But not fully. Kamukura, whoever he was, bled into Hinata. He changed his DNA, created a new entity, an amalgamation of the two. The mixed, inseparable, the colour shifted and solid. His body was stronger, sharper, sturdier, just better in all regards. Scars covered his form as if they were art and his body, a canvas. The most prominent was the scar that encircled his temples, lined in clean stitches. The rest of the scars were invisible in comparison, noticeable only if you were looking for them.

He grew out his hair just long enough so the bangs would cover them.

Hinata now had heterochromia. His eyes featured the two people that made him, well, him. The hazel tinted green, a muddy jade, sat next to the bright shade of blood, a bold crimson. The vivid contrast of two parts of a whole, with a sense of poetic justice of the creative green and analytical red.

He was supposed to be the perfect person. The flaws cancelled out between himself.

But he wasn’t.

With all the emotional baggage that came along with it, how could you ever call him perfect?

More often than not, Hinata didn’t know who he was. His mind was a mess of tangled wires, somehow connected and working, not that anyone could understand how. When he reached into the library in his head to pull out a talent, it slowly but surely broke him away from himself. He’d detach from what was ‘Hinata’, disassociate in his head, thousands upon thousands of ghosts of stolen talents clambering inside his skull.

Identity crisises happened regularly.

Who was he?

With the love and support of those around him, everytime his mind delved into the dark recesses of his past, they would remind him.

He was Hinata Hajime. He was human, just like the rest of them, weathered and worn. Parts broken and missing, but human.

_(The question floated in his head and resurfaced, but as time went on, it became easier.)_

He had his guilt and shame, a heavy collar that hung around his neck and weighed him down, into the depths of hell. It sometimes felt like it kept him in his place, grounded him. Marked him as a sinner, if only in a metaphorical sense. An unhealthy coping mechanism. It made him almost understand why Komaeda didn’t mind his chained collar during the days of despair.

When the beasts of his emotions (something that sometimes felt foreign, both a blessing but also a curse) reared their heads, he’d isolate himself in his workshop and work round the clock, needing to fix the seemingly infinite mess he was responsible for, until someone would figure out where he was and force him to rest and take care of himself, oftentimes being Sonia or Kuzuryuu. Komaeda sometimes would too, if Hinata managed to hide where no one else could find him, but more often than not Komaeda would keep to himself.

* * *

A silent shadow, a ghostly personification of unrepressed anxiety, self doubt and trauma.

Komaeda Nagito was an enigma to say the least. An anomaly to outsiders to say the least. Though, even those who knew him, rarely understood him. A puzzle that slowly lost its pieces as time went on, with random pieces occasionally mixed in. A puzzle that would never be fully completed, no matter what you’d do.

He was undead the same way a vampire was. He reeked of death that was visible from every angle. His skin was pale as bones and his constitution clearly depicted his health - or more accurately the lack thereof. He could be as sharp and deafening the same way Monokuma’s giggles had sent chills running down everyone’s spine’s back when they were in the Neo World Program, fighting for what they thought were their lives.

But somehow, despite all that, he possessed a sort of ethereal beauty, from his soft smiles to the way his voice would tinkle like bells in the rare moments of his carefree laughter. He had an unspoken grace to him, like the soft melodies of somber piano songs, to Shakespearean soliloquies, and a crippling loneliness that followed him like the plague wherever he’d set foot.

He was ambitious in all the wrong ways.

The man wore his beliefs on his sleeve, but hid his heart deep within. He freely expressed his beliefs like a prophet to a cult. He was confident in it, after all his entire life philosophy had dragged him to where he now stood. On the side of the coin that landed face up with flipped. An improbable probability.

Komaeda was bipolar, as bipolar as one could get. Exquisiteness amalgamated with vileness, light and dark layered upon each other, both sides of the same coin at the same time. He was soft and all the yet sharp, from his hair, a cotton cloud, to the jagged angles of his body that were signs of malnourishment and disease. He was soft in his smiles, in his polite mannerisms, in his childlike wonder and glee but with a flip of a coin, his personality could shift to jagged spikes, his voice like nails on chalkboard, sharp as a knife and just as deadly. He was keen the same way he was dull. He was logical, analytical. He was always two steps ahead in knowing what was going on during the murders, an impressive feat, considering he had no talent behind it like others might. He spotted the small details others missed and could find connections better than most. All the same, he was dense and clueless. Emotions slipped out of his grasp like melted butter, nor could he understand why the others did not understand his logic. His distortions, cognitive and the like, built up from the trauma that latched onto him like leeches, following his every step.

With his polarity, he was cursed. There was no way about it. Everything, the way he looked, and thought, and felt, traced back to his luck. A power even the mightiest of gods would fear. It was dangerous, not only for its magnitude but also because it was uncontrollable. Predictable (to an extent), but uncontrollable nonetheless.

Lack of control, did not mix well with power. It was explosive, destructive, deadly, and created nothing more than fear and vulnerability. It was hidden, buried deep, suppressed so he could move forward, but once past the hard outer exterior shell he’d built, it was who he was, plain and simple.

No matter how thick his shell was, it was delicate, shattered by a touch, when it came to Hinata. Sometimes, almost always, Komaeda felt like Hinata could see right through him. And in all honesty, it was no question that if he wished, he probably easily could.

* * *

They ended up finding solace in each other. Considering their relationship during the simulation (until the fourth trial, but that in itself was several cans of worms), it seemed like a no brainer. They were an odd pair, the former reserve course student, and the artificial attempt at a deity, with the wretched lucky child. And it, somehow, it worked.

When Komaeda awoke, and physically recovered enough to not be (metaphorically…. for the most part) tied down in the hospital, he kept his distance.

He smiled and engaged in small talk with those who were brave enough to seek him out (Sonia, Kuzuryuu, Nidai and on occasion Koizumi), and paid no mind who avoided him like the plague (Hanamura, Saionji and Souda in particular, though distrusting or fearful glances could be seen coming from a handful of others at times too).

After a week or so, whenever Hinata didn’t hole himself up in isolation, he made it his personal mission to find Komaeda and… for the lack of a better term, spend time with him.

Hinata was the first person Komaeda could call a friend, be it from the simulation or in reality. They would talk, and Hinata would listen. Hinata asked Komaeda questions about himself that Hinata already knew the answers to, but asked regardless. The act was noticed by Komaeda, the kindness appreciated.

Though the kindness felt undeserved. The opinion, when voiced by Komaeda, would be immediately shot down by Hinata. That generally encapsulated their relationship. Komaeda’s beliefs up against Hinata’s logic. A clash between an unstoppable force and the immovable object. Slowly but surely, Hinata shook the foundation that Komaeda had built up for his beliefs, and then it was a matter of time until the tower came crumbling down. It was painful, destructive and left him void. It was death, metaphorically. But the levelled building gave way for land, to build anew, a healthier, stronger belief. One less volatile than the previous one of jenga blocks, tethering, unstable.

It was growth. Healthy, a step in the right direction.

Komaeda’s health was another link that held the two together. As much as Komaeda hated hospitals, Hinata was stubborn and persistent. Komaeda would get to his appointments and sit amidst the white walls and the sterile smell of disinfectant.

(Komaeda had once said that the disinfectant was to get rid of the smell of the festering sickness that perpetually lay dormant in hospitals. Hinata found the thought somewhat morbid, but agreed.)

He hated hospitals, having spent enough to last a few lifetimes (especially if you counted Komaeda’s days in despair, when he’d often take shelter in one and self-medicate). The rooms were suffocating and yet boring all the same. Hinata’s voice, a sound Komaeda had secretly, oh so selfishly come to love, and his firm hands, as he’d perform the necessary physical examinations and procedures were enough to keep him grounded. Tsumiki did her best to help too, surrounded with unusual calmness and profreshionalism (as expected from the former SHSL nurse, Komaeda supposed), as she assisted Hinata and did her best to help Komaeda.

With the combined talents of Hinata and Tsumiki, they were able to create experimental medications to weaken and then cure Komaeda’s illnesses. Not everything worked, and the error portion of trial and error was unpleasant and may have featured some throwing up, but that was all part of the process.

They both were improving, using each other as anchors.

Psychologically, they were the two most messed up people. The former husk, that got dragged along as **_her_** personal plaything, and the other, who had grown used to disaster as if it was the norm.

That was probably why the two of them found comfort in each other.

Hinata was there for everyone, he set up therapy sessions to help fix and rebuild relationships, and to help those with the harder trauma, to accept the past and move on. Everyone was conversely there for Hinata, they’d pitch in where they could, and do little things to help their technically unofficial, yet unanimously chosen leader. Sonia would invite him to drink tea with her, when they both found themselves awake in the early mornings, hours earlier than either of them wished, when the sun was just about to rise. Souda would build him small gadgets as an act of camaraderie. Nidai and Owari would invite him to train. Pekoyama would give him a small smile whenever they passed by each other on the island. Mioda would drag him around to play with her, or listen to her play; the latter was sometimes (but thankfully, not always) a painful experience, but even then, it was the thought that counted. Sagishi was a man of few words, but the words were grounding all the same, it felt nice to have someone understand the issues that came with his identity. Hanamura would make him special foodstuffs, albeit at the cost of at least a few innuendos his way.

But it was Komaeda who was the first and the only one to see him raw. They accidentally met in the wee hours of the night, when the sky was a deep navy, indigo mix, stars splattered across it like spilled glitter, when no one but themselves and the crickets are awake, creating a symphony with their sounds.

_(The mosquitoes were awake too, and way too many for the island. Before Hinata made a homemade bug spray with his talents, Saionji had whined and complained so much his ears rang. A good thing he did, considering his insomniac midnight excursions happened pretty often.)_

They stared at the stars and watched the waves roll in when they sat on the beach, side by side, neither caring about the sand.

_(Komaeda would later complain about the sand everywhere, but in the moment, he did not care one bit.)_

They talked about everything from philosophy and religions and English literature, and the past. They’d walk down the dirt paths that circled the islands. And in the depth of the nights, Hinata would sometimes break, and Komaeda would pick him up.

Komaeda was new to physical affection, but quick to learn. When Hinata first hugged him, tears streaming down his usually stoic face that was now panicked, Komaeda froze, as if all of his mental processes had crashed. He had very little idea how to comfort him, but they got through it, together. When Komaeda first asked for a hug in turn, he stuttered and spluttered, face unusually red and eyes focusing on anything but Hinata. The request was withdrawn much faster than it was placed, but he was hugged anyway, before the stream of self-deprecation managed to break the dams and spill out. Instead, he froze and crashed yet again, which earned a chuckle from Hinata. Komaeda was quick to get comfortable, having little sense of shame, easily willing to be affectionate in public, much to the chagrin of Hinata. His embarrassment only increased when the others teased him about it. As much as he claimed to hate it, inside it left him all warm and fuzzy.

Together, they learned a lot. Komaeda (very slowly) learned to be selfish, and Hinata learned to be honest with himself and how it felt to matter.

Together, they learned love. Found the seed, planted it and out sprouted love, from the ashes of hopelessness.

**Author's Note:**

> Coffee - I headcanon post-canon Hinata to be an insomniac and thus live off of coffee, not just from trauma but also from constantly overworking until he passes out. 
> 
> Kamukura - Personally, I’m not a fan of the “two minds one body” DID-esque interpretation of post canon-Hinata/Kamukura. I’m more partial to the merged personalities, a calmer more matured Hinata, who could access talents at both conscious and unconscious levels, at the cost of slowly losing himself (and disassociating) the more talents he’d use, until he rests and recovers. His personality may shift around occasionally, but he is still Hinata. But hey if you like the other interpretation more, good for you! :)
> 
> Hinata’s appearance - The scars are a fairly common headcanon, from the multiple surgeries to enhance his body, with the temple scar being the biggest and most prominent. I additionally headcanon that he grows his hair out just long enough to cover the scar. 
> 
> Collar around neck - Reference to DR:AE, where Komaeda (as Servant), wore a metal collar with a chain
> 
> Undead depiction - Reference to Kamukura’s observation that Komaeda had the scent of someone who was “already finished”. (Also partly inspired by AU’s where Komaeda is a vampire. It’s fitting.)
> 
> On his sleeve - Play on “wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve”, except phrased so it showed that he hid his emotions and presented a facade to push his beliefs. 
> 
> Bipolar - To avoid controversy or confusion or anything, bipolar here specifically refers to the definition if the word (“having or relating to two poles or extremities”), not the disorder. (It’s possible to headcanon Komaeda as bipolar with canon narrative, as bipolar refers to the two emotional polarities, depression and mania, arguably seen in Komaeda’s characterization but that’s not the case here.)
> 
> Komaeda’s tower of beliefs - Subtle reference to tarot, the tower signifying destruction, crisis unexpected change and liberation. Death refers to end of a cycle, and a new beginning, rebirth. 
> 
> SHSL - Common knowledge, but “Super High School Level”, the titles given in the Japanese version. Still unsure which title version I’ll be using in fics. 
> 
> Sagishi - Imposter in Japanese. I feel like using “Sagishi” over “Imposter” gave him more of a name.
> 
> Conversation Topics - Headcanon that Komaeda’s interested in Philosophy, Religion (Including Ancient cultures and their myths and legends), and English Literature, specifically Shakespeare. Komaeda would definitely enjoy Shakespeare’s tragedies. This build on the headcanon the Komaeda is fluent in English (and a small amount of French). 
> 
> Hugs - Headcanon that Komaeda first has no idea what to do with physical affection, (due to his deprivation of it), to quickly becoming super cuddly and needy, especially with Hinata. 
> 
> Ending - The phase/song line “We found love in a hopeless place” popped into my head as I was writing the ending, so I referenced it, it’s really fitting. Another reference, was to the rebirth of a phoenix.
> 
> A/N - Thanks y’all for reading! It’s probably obvious that I wrote free verse spoken word/slam poetry to cope with my mental illness, but i digress. Please let me know what you think, I thrive off of comments. I hope your day is good and you remember you’re loved. Go out and do something that makes you happy.


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